Poetry – The Mystery of History

The Mystery of History

The mystery of history

In rocks, stones and shards.

Captured in legend

By mystics and bards.

The wisdom of ages.

The lives that are long gone.

Remembered in the landscape;

Revered in poetic song.

Standing in the circle

With the setting of the sun.

Breathing in the ambience

From days when all was one.

The warmth of the stones,

Full of memories and hope;

A living reminder –

The dreams of human scope.

All the mists of time

Now shroud reality

From a distant age

When nature was divinity.

Close to the seasons

Though hard, cruel and true.

When life was simple

And we knew what we should do.

Now in the age of plastic

Where change is the new god;

Where cash is the gospel

We live far from the sod.

Communicating with electricity

Across the wastes of space.

We seem to own everything

But have lost our sense of place.

Opher – 8.7.2021

Fresh back from Cornwall, having stood in the Stone circles, visited coits and Iron Age villages, with a sense of wonder.

Connecting to the past.

Looking out from those rugged places it felt like I was looking through the eyes of my ancestors.

Life was hard but they were in tune with nature and felt at home in the land.

This modern world is all plastic and speed but lacks any connection.

I feel at home in a stone circle. The stones have warmth.